


I'll Go Anywhere (Anywhere With You)

by Hypocorismm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M, Scent Marking, neck kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 11:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypocorismm/pseuds/Hypocorismm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which it's Stiles and Derek's first Christmas together as a couple, and there may be some kissing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Go Anywhere (Anywhere With You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CellophaneSoldier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CellophaneSoldier/gifts).



Stiles went overboard with the holidays, he always had. Even before Claudia got sick, Stiles went overboard. He brought out decorations too early and blasted Christmas music too loud. His father, the eternal Grinch, often grumbled about the overwhelming smell of cinnamon and pine stinking up the lower level of his home from Stiles’ Christmas candle army.

But Claudia had been the same way.

“It’s not even Thanksgiving,” Derek said as Stiles dragged hulking bags of Christmas decorations into Derek’s loft two weeks- just barely two weeks- after Halloween. “What are you doing?”

“Invading Poland,” Stiles deadpanned.

“Don’t be snarky,” Derek relied. “Or else I’m returning your Christmas present.”

“That’s not fair! You asked a dumb question, and I answered.”

“Stiles, what are you doing?”

“We, my darling sour wolf, are going to decorate for Christmas so your loft looks less decrepit,” Stiles explained, starting to sort through the garbage bags. “Besides, I’m in the mood for Christmas and Dad has barred me from decorating until Black Friday. Which is unfair. You’re missing out on weeks of Christmas lights and reindeer and tinsel.”

“Stiles.”

“And maybe it’s just my ADHD but I just love tinsel. I’m also barred from tinsel, which is just rude. I’m the one who cleans the house. I don’t mind tinsel, or cleaning it.”

“Do you put tinsel on everything?” Derek asked.

“No. Maybe.”

Derek nodded knowingly.

“You are just like Laura, you know that? She used to decorate the house the day after Halloween and wouldn’t let it take it down until after New Year’s. She’d be one of the first to buy a tree, and she loved Christmas shopping,” Derek said. He never shared, never opened up, especially about Laura. That would was fresher than the others, Stiles supposed.

Stiles climbed into Derek’s lap and kissed his nose.

“I can back off, if it’ll make you feel better,” he said quietly.

“Don’t you dare, Stiles. I knew what I was getting into when I asked you out, all of your eccentricities, all your obsessions. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be you around me, wild, and crazy, holiday-obsessed you.”

Stiles grinned and kissed his boyfriend. They hadn’t been together a year yet, this their first Christmas as a couple.

Derek broke the kiss to nuzzle gently into Stiles’ neck, a habit he picked up after they’d started dating. Stiles knew exactly what Derek was doing, considering the pack did it to him every time he came from college and smelled like his suitemates. Although the pack didn’t normally suck bruises into his skin in order to mark him as theirs.

“Derek, you can’t decorate _me_ ,” Stiles said, forcing himself to act. He actually really liked Derek’s little marks, loved them, but he could not handle any more snide remarks, or immature snickers from the pack and his suitemates.

“Why not?” Derek asked against his throat.

“Everyone keeps laughing at me,” Stiles said with a whine. Derek pulled back to admire his handiwork, grinning. “You’re evil.”

“You like it and you know it,” Derek said, pressing another gentle kiss into Stiles’ lips. “Besides, I like people knowing that you’re mine.”

“Possessive much?”

Derek hummed in agreement.

“We should get to work. I need to get back to school for class tomorrow.”

“Don’t go.”

“Derek.”

“You can miss class, you already know the material.”

“You’re a bad influence, Derek Hale. I’ve skipped too many times already for you. Two weeks and you get me for a week.”

“Too long,” Derek grumbled.”

“And then, you get me for an entire month. You’re a big boy, you can last that long.”

 

-&-

 

Stiles was very picky about his Christmas tree. It was half of the reason that the Sheriff hated tree shopping with his son. This year, however, Stiles was dragging Derek with him and letting the Sheriff off the hook.

“Good luck,” he said to Derek before the pair disappeared out the door.

“What did he mean by good luck?”

“Nothing,” Stiles said, leading Derek to the Keep. Derek doubted it was just noting. The Sheriff had been _relieved_ that Stiles wasn’t making him go, and that was very odd for the Stilinskis. They were a close family, one that loved spending time together.

Something wasn’t right here.

“Something” being that Stiles was absolutely anal about his Christmas tree. No tree was good enough.

“How long is this specifications list?” Derek asked as they wandered their third tree farm.

“Don’t mock.”

“This is a serious question, though.”

“Well,” Stiles paused to think. “There’s height, color, softness of the needles, fullness of the branches, whether or not it has empty spots, smell, and of course, the feeling of it.”

“Feeling?”

“Does this tree feel like Christmas?”

“Stiles, with criteria like that, I’m surprised you’ve ever found a tree.”

“You’re mocking.”

“I’m sorry but we’ve been looking for three hours.”

“It’s important to me. Mom and I used to go, spend hours analyzing trees, until we found the perfect one. You just know when you find it.

Derek looked at Stiles, and just watched him. Stiles had had to grow up very quickly when his mother died, and you could see it still affecting hi.

“Alright, let’s find you your perfect tree.”

Derek trailed happily after Stiles, well, not _happily_. But contentedly, because Stiles was happy.

“What about that one?” Derek asked as they passed one all by itself. It was short, kind of stumpy, a dark green unlike the blue-greens of its surrounding neighbors. It also wasn’t anything like the trees that Laura would bring home.

Stiles gave it a look, then Derek.

“Why that one?” he asked.

Derek shrugged.

“You mentioned the feeling of Christmas as part of your criteria. This one feels like Christmas to me.”

Stiles smiled.

“If you want the runt Christmas tree, baby, you can have it,” Stiles said pulling Derek in by his coat and kissing him softly. “Thanks for humoring me; I know I’m a pain.”

“Yeah, but, you’re my pain, though.”

 

-&-

 

The next step was decorating the tree, which Stiles was actually relaxed about. Mostly.

“Okay,” he said, carrying a large shopping bag with him into Derek’s loft. “We have lights, ornaments, tinsel, candy canes, and popcorn strands.”

“Popcorn strands?” Derek asked, popping from the kitchen, munching on a Christmas cookie Stiles had baked the night before out of boredom.

“Yeah, popped popcorn on a string. Surely, you’ve heard of them.”

“I’ve heard of them, sure, but I thought it was just one of those television traditions.”

Stiles shook his head.

“Laura failed you.”

Derek half-expected Laura’s spirit to appear and strangle Stiles for such an accusation but no one came and Stiles wasn’t mysteriously struck down.

“Who put the topper on your tree?” Stiles asked. They stood by his overflowing bag of ornaments at the base of the tree.

“Laura.”

Stiles grinned. “My kinda gal. Well, this is your tree, so you get to top it, once we’re done, of course.”

“Of course.”

“First things first, the lights. I personally like green strands with multi-colored lights. Mom was partial to white lights, so I brought both. I won’t judge you if you pick the wrong on,” Stiles said, waving his hands around as he tended to do.

A hand talker, Laura was one too.

The similarities between Laura and Stiles wracked up the more time Derek spent with the boy.

They both had a sarcastic, dry wit that Derek both despised and loved. They loved the holidays, took too much sugar in their coffee, took forever in the shower, connected things that often had no connection, and had a tendency to overload on video games.

“Derek?” Stiles called, snapping his fingers in front of Derek’s face to get his attention. Derek blinked, refocusing on Stiles. “Hi. Welcome back.”

“Sorry, was thinking.”

“What about?”

“You, and Laura, how similar you are,” Derek answered, drawing Stiles into his arms and ghosting a kiss across his boyfriend’s jaw line.

“Really? How so?”

Derek could tell Stiles was eager to hear his reply, could feel it vibrating in his body, could smell it radiating off him in thick waves. This is how Stiles reacted every time Derek mentioned his family, his time in New York, any bit of his past. Derek didn’t open up easily, didn’t share openly, so when he did, Stiles gave him his full attention. Which was rare, honestly, considering _Stiles._

“Oh, yeah,” Derek chuckled. “You’re both rabid for the holidays, for one. You have the same mannerisms, some of the same nervous ticks. It’s weird.”

“You sound like you’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Stiles answered.

“On and off since we met. Laura would’ve loved you.”

“You think so?”

Stiles rested his head against Derek’s, breathing in the same air. He used to think, before Derek, that he wanted a height difference with his partner. But now, with Derek, he loved the equality between them. They were always at eye-level, and Stiles’ favorite, kiss level.

Derek hummed.

“I think I might like her too,” Stiles muttered. “Although…”

“Although?”

“Only if she picked the right strand of lights.”

Derek let out a genuine, startled bark of laughter. He laughed just about as often as he shared, and Stiles wanted to wrap himself in Derek’s laughter.

“Multi-colored,” Derek answered.

“You’re a good boyfriend,” Stiles cooed, pressing feather kisses into Derek’s jaw happily. “I made a good choice with you.”

Derek held Stiles’ jaw in his hands, thumbs sweeping circles into his skin slowly.

“How did I get so lucky with you?” he asked, staring into Stiles’ eyes. Stiles smiled, a big, genuine grin that stretched across his face and crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“You’re freaking me out with all this mushy feeling share time,” Stiles said, covering Derek’s hands and freeing his face. He laced their fingers together and smiled again at Derek. “Are we going to be that couple during the holidays? Because, if so, I can start calling you snookums and confessing my love for you in front of the pack.”

Derek scowled.

“Ahh, there’s my sour wolf. I was beginning to worry, actually. Not that I don’t want you to marvel over how fantastic I am, but I fell in love with brooding Derek. I don’t want him to change.”

Derek kissed Stiles before he could continue.

“Let’s just decorate the tree, Stiles.”

“Keep talking like that, mister, and see what happens, “Stiles replied, winking flirtatiously. Derek rolled his eyes and shook his head, as if regretting his entire life and his decisions.

 

-&-

 

“It’s a winter must, Derek!” Stiles explained, putting water into Derek’s barely used electric tea kettle. Isaac was the only one who had used it, and now that he was off at college (rooming with Scott still), the tea kettle stood empty and alone on Derek’s counter.

“It doesn’t even snow here! It’s not cold enough.”

“But it’s hot cocoa! It doesn’t have to be cold to have hot cocoa.”

“Why would you drink hot chocolate when it’s warm?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Derek let out a long-suffering sigh.

This was the person he’d chose to put his faith and love in, chose as his mate.

“Okay, hot cocoa,” he gave in. This was Stiles, after all. Relentless, overwhelming Stiles.

“Okay! So my mom had this amazing recipe for hot cocoa from scratch, but I lost it after she died. But I perfected the cocoa mix to hot water ratio so it’s the best powder cocoa ever! Plus,” Stiles rambled. He pulled a big bag of Christmas tree-shaped marshmallows out of a bag as he said, “I bought marshmallows!”

“I expect nothing less.”

“Did you know that Scott doesn’t like marshmallows in his cocoa? How can I associate with him ever again?”

“How ever will you?” Derek mused, looping his arms around Stiles’ slim waist. “Both Laura and my dad took more marshmallows in their cocoa than actual cocoa. Mom liked the mini ones from the packets.”

“What about you?” Stiles asked, turning in Derek’s arms to face him.

“I like marshmallows, and I picked this up from Peter actually, and whipped cream.”

“Both?”

“Both. Cora does the same thing.”

“I like learning about your family,” Stiles admitted. “Gives me a piece of you that no one else has.”

“You have a lot of pieces of me that no one else has,” Derek replied.

“Oh?”

“Mmm, you were the first guy I’d ever been with. You have me at night, and in the early morning. I trust you completely, with every fiber of my being. Plus, you’re the only person who has ever dragged me outside for 3 hours to get a Christmas tree, and lived.”

Stiles grinned.

“You also had me arrested. No one else has done that.”

“Yeah, that’s true. I’ve saved your life, but you always need someone to save you. You’re a professional damsel in distress.”

Derek leaned in and kissed Stiles deeply. Stiles pressed back, forgetting the cocoa in favor of Derek’s warm mouth on his.

The kettle whistled a few minutes later, startling the two apart, breaths heaving and clothes rumpled.

They looked at each other, and started to laugh.

“If I were a girl, I’d be so pregnant by now,” Stiles said with a breathy chuckle.

“I can’t help it that you taste so good,” Derek replied, reeling him back in.

“If you weren’t a werewolf, I’d be really freaked out by that statement.”

Derek pressed needy kisses into Stiles’ jaw and neck.

“If I weren’t a werewolf, you would still taste as good.”

Stiles bit back his moan.

“I’ll probably taste even better after we drink the hot cocoa that I slaved over.”

“Doubtful, but I’m willing to give it a shot.”

 

-&-

 

Derek wrapped a scarf securely around Stiles’ neck and pulled his hood up over his head. It had snowed, strangely, and much to Stiles’ delight. Derek just didn’t want Stiles to catch a cold, it had nothing to do with how adorable Stiles was wrapped up like Nanook.

“You’re so cute when you worry over me,” Stiles chuckled, pressing his cold fingertips into Derek’s neck. He wasn’t fazed, as he was never fazed. The man was impervious to cold.

“I just don’t want you to get sick,” Derek said softly.

“But you love to take care of me,” Stiles pointed out.

“I can do that without you catching hypothermia.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said with a smile. “You certainly can.”

Behind them Scott made fake retching noises, bringing them back to where they were. Beacon Hills, every year, put on a holiday parade for the town and its surrounding neighbors on Christmas Ever. All sorts of organizations turned out to walk the parade. In fact, since Stiles was old enough to remember, the Beacon Hills Police Department decorated one of the squad cars out in lights and the deputies dressed up as elves while the Sheriff dressed as Santa, and they all handed out candy. One year, the Sheriff had even saved up for a bunch of dollar store trinkets and Stiles had spent three days and approximately 15 rolls of gift wrap wrapping them for the kids.

Since Stiles had been busy with Derek, and last minute gifts for the pack, he actually had no idea what the BHPD was up to. They liked to out-do everyone else and were generally the very last float in the parade, the grand finale.

“What’s your dad up to this year?” Allison asked, tucking herself into Scott’s side.

“I have no idea, to be honest. He’s kept it all hush hush, won’t say a word about it. It’s very suspicious.”

“You think your father doing anything is suspicious,” Derek added.

“He’s a very suspicious man.”

“I don’t know how to respond to that, actually,” Derek said, staring up at the sky as snowflakes fell into his eyelashes. He blinked them away and looked at Stiles.

“You two need to stop,” Scott whined.

“We didn’t even do anything!” Stiles yelped, looking at Derek helplessly.

“It was Derek, I think,” Isaac said against his Styrofoam mug of hot chocolate from one of the gas stations on the way from his job. “He gets this gooey look in his eyes whenever he looks at Stiles, and it’s sickeningly cute.”

Scott didn’t care that Stiles and Derek were dating, really, he was cool with it, but he just didn’t want proof that they were together.

He still held onto that piece of him that wanted to keep Derek at least an arm’s length away, despite the fact that they were pack.

“Oh, get over it, Scott! They’re cute, and it’s not like they’re going at it in the streets like two certain people we know,” Lydia commanded. The pack turned as one to stare accusingly at Scott and Allison, who grinned sheepishly.

“Shut up, it’s starting!” Cora hushed them, smacking at Isaac’s arm to pull him close. That was a recent, semi-unexpected development that Stiles was 100% for, while Derek was weary. It was his baby sister after all.

All of the Holidays Parade veterans were there, the BHFD, the Girl Scout troops, 4H from Beacon Hills High and their neighbor school, even the Beacon Hills FFA, as well as some of the small businesses, like Nessie’s Café and Secondhand (a secondhand bookstore that sold books better than the commercial bookstores) and of course, the BHPD.

Stiles bounced excitedly as he looked down the main street for the squad car. Derek pulled the candy cane out of Stiles’ mouth and popped it into his own. Stiles didn’t retaliate, only dug in his pocket for another that he’d collected from the BHFD and the Beacon Hills varsity lacrosse team.

“Here they come!” he squealed.

The rest of the floats had left the street, leaving it open for the police department.

The squad car looked like it always did, dressed in twinkling whit Christmas lights with deputies dressed up on both sides of it. Except, instead of festive green elves, they were all dressed in Santa suits.

And the Sheriff was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh, god. What have they got planned?” Stiles muttered.

“I’m sure it’s nothing embarrassing,” Derek replied.

“You’ve never met my father, have you?”

Derek nodded in defeat.

He had met the Sheriff, obviously, and he had been pleasantly terrifying. Derek had faced down his crazy uncle, faced a kanima, the bitch who murdered his family, an Alpha pack who killed half of his own pack, and a crazy dark druid that wanted to use him for her own means… but Derek had never been more terrified than when he met Stiles’ father as Stiles’ boyfriend.

“Oh. My. God.”

The Sheriff came galloping down the street on a reindeer, a _reindeer_ of all things.

How do you even ride a reindeer?

Where do you find a reindeer to ride?

What is Stiles’ life?!

Seriously, what?!

“That’s not my father, that’s not my father, that is definitely, totally, completely _not_ my father!” Stiles insisted loudly, hiding his face behind the scarf Derek wrapped around his neck.

“Holy shit, Stilinski,” someone near him laughed, clapping him on the back. “Your dad is awesome!”

Stiles peeked out of his scarf- he was definitely keeping it, it was warm and smelled of Derek- and found his father sliding off the reindeer and taking a bow while the crowd cheered happily. Deputies opened the trunk of the squad car, stopped not too far down and gathered up bags of tiny boxes. They started at the center and worked their way down the street, handing each kid a box. The Sheriff walked towards Stiles with his own bag, smaller than the rest, grinning like Father Christmas in his uniform.

“You rode a reindeer,” Stiles deadpanned.

“I rode a reindeer,” the Sheriff replied proudly, chest puffed up as he beamed.

“Where did you get a reindeer?”

“A reindeer farm,” the Sheriff explained.

“Ahhh, yes, of course, silly me.”

“Here, kid. Merry Christmas, to you and your friends,” the Sheriff said, handing Stiles the bag. “They’re all tagged for each one of you.”

Stiles peeked inside as the Sheriff sauntered back to his stead. Kids ran up to him to pet the reindeer while Stiles shuffled through his bag of boxes.

“Lydia’s.” He handed her a sleek, silver box with a frilly pink ribbon. Allison’s was pink with silver spiral ribbons. Isaac and Scott’s were opposites as well, Scott’s blue with silver ribbons, Isaac’s silver with blue ribbons. Cora’s was green (her favorite) with a small, subtle white bow, Derek’s a white box with a green bow.

And Stiles’ was exactly what he expected.

White with a light blue bow (one of Claudia’s favorite Christmas combinations).

“Your father!” Scott chuckled, lifting up a tiny plastic wolf figurine from his box. Isaac got the same wolf figurine. Lydia got a tiny, strangely accurate globe, with a note claiming that it was hers- she loved it. Allison received a bow and arrow charm, which she adored. Cora and Derek pulled keys from their boxes, and exchanged twin dubious looks.

“Keys?” they asked Stiles.

“No idea,” he replied. “Any sort of not, or?”

Derek lifted up the foam padding and pulled up a folded note. He read it and passed it to Cora who grinned.

“Your father,” she sighed, kissing the key happily.

“What’d you get?” Scott asked, half fighting Isaac’s wolf with his own.

He opened his box, and blushed a deep crimson, face hot against the cold, winter wind.

He pressed the lid back onto the box and held it close to his chest. The pack looked at him with mixed looks of worry and confusion.

“What is it?” Allison asked. He shook his head, face burning like the fires of Mount Doom.

“Just something personal.”

“Stiles,” Scott started before he lunged for the box. Stiles yelped and stuffed the box into the pocket of his coat, zipped it before running away.

Scott chased Stiles through the crowds of families and tackled him into the snowbank.

“No! Get off!”

“Give it!”

“Get your own!”

“Let me see!”

“No!”

“Stiles!”

They rolled through the snow, wrestling to be the man on top, but Stiles had a disadvantage. He wasn’t super strong, or super fast, or super agile like Scott. But he gave it his all.

“No! You dickface!” Stiles yelled as Scott held him down with one hand and unzipped his pocket with the other. He dug out the box from amongst Stiles’ stash of candy and receipts.

“Victory!”

“Nein!” Stiles yelped, wrenching a wrist free and reaching uselessly for the box. Scott flicked the top off and died laughing, almost literally.

“Okay, asshole, you proved your point. Get off before anyone else sees.”

“I’m so-so-sorry,” Scott cackled. “Your father bought you condoms from Christmas!”

“Which I’ll put to use with Derek on your bed if you don’t quit it!”

Scott yelped and jumped off Stiles’ waist with grace only belonging to a werewolf.

“Why are you on the ground?” Derek asked. Stiles shoved the box and its ridiculous contents back into his jacket and picked himself off the ground. He promptly began to shiver.

“Scott was being an asshole,” he said through chattering teeth.

“Come on, let’s go get you warmed up before you get sick,” Derek said, guiding Stiles towards his loft with a look at Scott. “So, condoms?”

Stiles chuckled, because of course, _of course_ , Derek had heard.

“Yeah, and one of those single use lube packets. My father, ladies and gentlemen!”

 

-&-

 

Stiles realized halfway home just how soaked with snow his clothes were. His jeans clung to him like an uncomfortable, wet skin, and there was snow up the back of his shirt. His socks were wet, and one had slipped off the back of his ankle.

He was not happy.

“You look like a drowned rat,” Derek laughed.

“I’ll withhold sex.”

Derek frowned.

“No, you won’t. It’s Christmas Eve, and you love the holidays. You wouldn’t miss out on holiday sex, for anything.”

Stiles grumbled under his breath, knowing Derek could hear him.

Derek held open the first floor lobby door for Stiles and led him up the never-ending flights of stairs to his loft door. Once inside, locked safely away from prying eyes, Derek pulled Stiles close and kissed him against the door.

Stiles’ chattering teeth and shaking ruined the moment.

Derek kissed his nose and stepped back just enough to unzip Stiles’ coat. He pushed it off Stiles’ shoulders and went for the zipper on Stiles’ hoodie.

“What’re you doing?” Stiles asked, not that he cared. He wanted out of his frozen clothes, and if Derek Hale was going to help that, more power to him. All the power to him.

“Body head,” was Derek’s explanation.

Right, body heat.

He continued to undress Stiles, starting with his hoodie, then his long-sleeved thermal, then his heavy, waterlogged jeans. He eased Stiles out of his shoes, his one downed sock jumping ship early before its mate was removed as well.  Derek stepped away and stripped his own clothes off, Stiles staring in awe.

Derek led them into his bedroom by hand and laid Stiles, shivering worse now without clothes on, in bed. He peeled Stiles’ damp boxers away before curling himself around his boyfriend’s shaking form.

It was always nice, cuddling. They weren’t all that cuddly, men of action in most ways. But when they both just laid still, pressed close enough that their scents began to meld and merge, it was almost perfection.

Stiles took his time relaxing, settling into just the right spot before sighing with contentment.

“Yeah, this is good. I like this. I should need to be warmed up all the tim.e”

“Don’t even think about it, Stilinski.”

“Now, Mr. Hale, whatever could you mean?” Stiles asked, batting his eyelashes innocently at Derek.

“Don’t fall in snow, or the creek, or shower in your clothes just for me to warm you up.”

“Why I would never!”

Derek smirked; a sign of something that edged on mischief was coming.

He dove into Stiles’ neck and growled playfully before latching on to mark what was his. Stiles was caught between squealing and moaning, but as Derek shifted in tighter and his hand found the middle of Stiles’ stomach, Stiles landed definitively on moan.

“There, mine,” Derek muttered, pulling away to admire the bruise no doubtedly blooming at Stiles’ throat. “Mine,” he repeated.

Stiles couldn’t protest, because yeah, he definitely was.

Derek marked up his neck possessively whenever the old mark faded, an ever-present hickey claiming him.

And in turn, Stiles marked Derek with his scent, pressing his hands into Derek’s skin, running his cheek against Derek’s (an excellent way to get completely innocent beard burn, for future reference), anything to tell everyone that Derek was his.

Derek was his, and he was Derek’s.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, one quick note!  
> I forgot to add this is to the fic, so I guess I'll just put it here.  
> The keys go to a storage locker that the Hales put their overflow stuff from the house in, so the house wasn't cluttered. The Sheriff found it, after Derek mentioned having to put some of his toys in storage. The Hale fortune paid for the rent each month.   
> :)


End file.
